


Gloom in the Valley

by sweesbees



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, also i have no idea how this is going to end this is just me rambling so bear with me, no therapists we work our shit out through fanfics like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 22:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19473088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweesbees/pseuds/sweesbees
Summary: A new creature comes to Moominvalley, but it seems it is not native to this land. In fact, it seems like it's from another world entirely. It just wants to get back, but once they meet the residents of this beautiful place, will they want to leave?





	Gloom in the Valley

**Author's Note:**

> this is gonna be my most indulgent fanfic i've ever written and i've written straight up self insert oc/canon fanfic when i was 10 so bear with me

The first thing I recalled upon waking was a violent throbbing in my temples.

It was a headache. Nothing out of the ordinary. Waking up from a nap often had that effect on me. But this headache soon turned into an all over ache. Dull pain rolled through my limbs, weighing them down as if they were stone. As my senses came into clarity, I could feel pebbles and blunt rocks along my backside, I blinked the sleep from my eyes, and once my vision was clear, I could see that I was staring directly up into the canopy above my head.

Leaves silently swayed in the chilly afternoon breeze, coloured in faded greens from the light of the sun above. It was almost idyllic. The fresh air in my nostrils hummed with running water, dirt, and the gentle scents of flowers and leaves. This forest was unfamiliar to me. Rising up slowly and sitting up, I reached down to dust the dirt off my arms, but as I did, I came to a realisation.

My fingers were stubby. They were almost too stubby to be human, and they were most certainly not mine.

A river bubbled and frothed a few feet away from where I currently sat. It called with the tune of the forest, as if it had earned its place among its growth. Crawling on my hands and knees, I wearily stumbled over to catch a glimpse of my reflection, worrying to myself about what horrible transmogrification could have taken place.

In the soft glistening river, I saw what was now my face. Dark circles rang around my eyes, but this was a familiarity to me. What was unfamiliar was my hair, which now stuck out every which way like a genuine rat’s nest. As I ran a hand over it, I felt my hair prick at me as if it were some kind of harsh bramble. While it seemed to hurt, I lowered my hand and inspected it. There was no blood, no nick of skin. In fact, my whole hand felt rough like the hide of an elephant. Something was clearly wrong here.

As I studied the rest of my body in what width the river offered, I noticed several new parts of myself. The shape of my head was much more circular, and my whole face looked as if it would droop off and fall into the water. My body, while still stocky, was now a lot shorter with proportions different to my own. And the strangest part was still to come; a tail which spanned the length of my leg was dragging along the floor, collecting dirt and becoming brushier with every drag. Whatever I was now, it was a monster of myself. And yet, it felt like I had become what I had seen of myself.

This felt too real to be a dream. My head still rang with pain so real I was sure that I was awake. Then I must be in hell, I thought. Hell would give me a look to reflect my self-loathing. But if that was true, then how could hell be this pretty? Wherever I was, I knew I had to start moving. If this was reality, then the natural processes would start up soon, and I did not want to starve before getting a straight answer of where I was and why I was here.

Two leaden steps got me off of the ground as I fought every urge to stay rooted in my position. I scanned the forest to see if there was a clear direction as to which way would lead to safety. I had been rested on some sort of path, and if I followed it, I could maybe find a way out. I surely was not the only inhabitant of this forest. Feeling a sense of trepidation, I moved forward. The trees curved around the path, as if it were welcoming people home.

My ears may have been mistaken, but I swore I heard a plop somewhere along the river in front of me. The river started to bend around, turning away from my view, and as my eyes followed it, I saw that the path followed in tandem, curving around to stay with the river, promising to never part. I followed the curious curve of the path, hoping that it would lead me to what I had heard when my footfalls went silent.

After going around the bend, my eyes caught sight of a fisherman clothed in green. His eyes were locked with the river which had now widened and deepened considerably. After standing stationary for a few seconds, he lunged forward with his rod. The audible plop came from the sound of the bob breaking the surface of the river. 

Immediately, I backed off, seeking the nearest tree for cover and a position to study this individual. His shoulders were squarely hunched. From under the brim of his hat, his keen eyes were unmoving. A stray bit of grass was clenched between his teeth as he stayed in his position. His paws were gripping the rod tightly, refusing to let it shake. Any movement from him could scare off a potential catch, and he knew this very well. To me, he gave off the appearance of a curmudgeon, and I knew better than to distract him. However, I would have to trust him with guidance. Just after his catch.

The dirt rustled underneath his feet as he slung his rod back. A fish broke the water, and from appearance, it resembled a char. Surely this meant that whatever fairytale land I was in was at least recognisable as something I could live in with food I was familiar with. I took my first few steps towards him as he was distracted with unhooking the fish and slinging it over his back with the other fish he had caught.

“Hmm?” the fisherman hummed, quite alert to my footsteps. I wanted to run and hide. He spotted me. He knew I was there.

“Um…hello?” My mouth worked before I even realised it.

“Hello,” he replied with a much more affirmative tone. “Curious. I don’t see many new faces around here.”

I reflexively laughed. Whoever he was, I was relieved to be speaking the same language. 

“I… do you… live around here?” Frankly, I was struggling to get the words out. This stranger, standing with his shoulders rounded to face me, was now acknowledging my presence.

“I live in a tent just near here,” came his instant and simple reply. Was I wasting his time? The more worrying thought came to my mind that maybe he was the only one around here for miles. If he was just here with his tent, what hope would I have to find civilisation? I could not just rest with this strange man until I found my way back home. His body language conveyed an uneasiness about me, and I was already uneasy enough.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, tilting my head down to talk into my chest. “I just woke up here. I have no idea where my home is.” 

The fisherman tilted his head, his hat shading his face from the afternoon sun above as it sank down from the sky. His mouth pressed shut and he hummed in consideration.

“Maybe I can help in some way. I’ll just head back to camp and start on my supper, but you can follow if you want.” Just after saying that, he turned heel and started to walk further into the forest. My feet stayed rooted to the ground, and I wanted to leave this fisherman alone. He was glad to be done of me. Surely he was.

“Oh. My name is Snufkin,” said the fisherman, his head slightly turned back to communicate the words to myself. He must have wanted me to hear them, and that alone lightened my feet. I picked them up and made my way over to him. “What is your name?”

“...” I tried to say my name, but it refused to come out. Whatever I was now would not be named my own name. For now, I had to say a name that would work for what I was and who I was. Monster was not right. Abomination was not either. Malformed Mess could only work in my own warped mind. I had to say something. Something that would identify me from now until when I left this land.

“...Bramble. My name is Bramble.”

**Author's Note:**

> yee haw well i guess i'll update this when i feel like i have more to write ha haaaaa


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